silver, gold and wolf's bane [derek, isaac, gen]
Author: espressopotluck
Title: silver, gold and wolf's bane
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none [Derek/Isaac if you squint, I suppose]
Character/s: Derek, Isaac
Summary: His life is empty save for the shattered debris of everything he tried to build.
Warnings: post-S2, mentions of non-returning characters
Word Count: 989
Prompt: #6- Family
Author's Notes: Derek and Isaac feels all over the place with this week's fantastic prompt!
Derek doesn't ask him to come, after it all.
In fact, he doesn't ask him much of anything, which he thinks is rather big, because Erica and Boyd are gone and Peter's taken off to god knows where and Jackson's family up and moved, and he's got nothing left but the debris strewn around the train depot. He thought he hated constantly being surrounded by people again, after so long alone; he'd thought that he wasn't made to be social at all times, to be interacting constantly with others, and the reality is that he's a pack animal through and through, and now, with nothing but the aftermath of the explosion to keep him company, he finds he simply cannot summon the will to care.
But he doesn't ask Isaac to come. Isaac does that on his own.
He stands in the station doorway, at the top of the stairs, and doesn't say anything for a long time even though they both know that Derek has registered his presence. Even if Isaac wasn't breathing loud enough to alert every hunter in a 500 yard radius, he'd have felt Isaac approaching - the web there, the bond, is humming a bit, and maybe it's stronger now because it's the only one left.
Maybe it's not really there at all, and that's the true illusion of Derek's life.
"Thought you were going to leave," Derek says, without looking up. He wants to kick at a broken bit of glass, but that would be juvenile. Kate had always said that he was juvenile in all the right ways; he thinks now that she meant all the horrible ones, that ones that let her in, let her twist his life and shred it with her fingernails.
"I was," comes the response, and Isaac still doesn't move from the top of the stairs.
There's a long stretch of nothing before Derek sighs, letting his head fall back against the grimy metal, and says, "Why didn't you?"
"I wanted to win," Isaac replies.
He takes the steps two-by-two, boots thudding loudly against the boards.
"Did we?" Derek asks, because he's really not sure. It doesn't look much like they won - he's got less now than when he started, and he's pretty sure that doesn't spell out much of a victory.
"Are we alive?" Isaac shoots back.
Derek chooses not to answer that one, either. Alive is a subjective state of being, and he learned that lesson a long time ago. "Why are you here, Isaac? I thought you ran off. I thought you didn't want any part in this. Didn't Erica and Boyd convince you that I'm a terrible leader?"
There's silence. Derek turns his head and he knows that scent, would know it anywhere. He hates that Isaac has carried it with him down here, to the hole Derek's chosen to die in, because now his senses are cloying with it, thick and heavy and just another reminder of how many times he failed.
"You smell like Scott," Derek laughs, mirthless. "Did you stay for him?"
Isaac doesn't answer him then, either. Derek sits without speaking until the boy leaves, taking the steps slower than he did coming down. It's better this way; Derek didn't really want to hear the answer.
--
He dreams of his father. It's not a good dream, but at least it's not a dream of fire and smoke and screams that ring in his head for days. His father is just looking at Derek with so much disappointment, like he's finally seeing all the unused potential - all the ways that Derek screwed everything up. He could make a list of the turns where he went wrong. He wishes he'd had a map; maybe then he wouldn't have taken so many wrong turns.
Derek wakes up to see Isaac standing at the foot of the steps again, a silhouette against the single light that's flickering at the top amidst the darkness. It's night. Late, probably, and Derek hasn't really moved much except to slide down further to the ground.
"No," Isaac says - his voice is too loud in the quiet.
"What?" Derek asks. He's having trouble not visualizing the ghost of his father lurking in the shadows, ashamed and disgusted.
"The answer to your question," Isaac elaborates. He steps closer, and Derek's night vision is already adjusted to the strange harshness between the lamp and the inky blackness. "I didn't come back for him."
Derek doesn't respond. After another second or two, long seconds of hammering heartbeats, Isaac gets down on the grimy floor on his hands and knees and crawls next to where Derek is slumped. He curls up against Derek's side, shoulders concaving over on themselves.
"Why?" Derek asks, and somehow the sound makes it around the lump in his throat.
"You made me," Isaac says. "I was broken, and you made me something else."
"I made you into something without a home."
Isaac's head moves, chin turning upwards. Against Derek's shoulder, the angle of his neck is harsh and long. "No. I didn't have a home before, but I have one now."
"This is an abandoned train station," Derek tries to laugh.
"I wasn't talking about this place."
Derek is sure that Isaac can feel the guilt and regret and gratitude that's pumping through his veins with every furious beat. He feels something - terror, maybe, if he had to put a name to it - when he loops an arm up, wrist bone scraping against the dingy concrete, and settles it around Isaac's shoulder.
And they stay there, for a long time, until all Derek can feel is the warmth shared between their forms and the gentle rise and fall of Isaac's chest.
Maybe, he's not as alone as he thought.
Title: silver, gold and wolf's bane
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none [Derek/Isaac if you squint, I suppose]
Character/s: Derek, Isaac
Summary: His life is empty save for the shattered debris of everything he tried to build.
Warnings: post-S2, mentions of non-returning characters
Word Count: 989
Prompt: #6- Family
Author's Notes: Derek and Isaac feels all over the place with this week's fantastic prompt!
Derek doesn't ask him to come, after it all.
In fact, he doesn't ask him much of anything, which he thinks is rather big, because Erica and Boyd are gone and Peter's taken off to god knows where and Jackson's family up and moved, and he's got nothing left but the debris strewn around the train depot. He thought he hated constantly being surrounded by people again, after so long alone; he'd thought that he wasn't made to be social at all times, to be interacting constantly with others, and the reality is that he's a pack animal through and through, and now, with nothing but the aftermath of the explosion to keep him company, he finds he simply cannot summon the will to care.
But he doesn't ask Isaac to come. Isaac does that on his own.
He stands in the station doorway, at the top of the stairs, and doesn't say anything for a long time even though they both know that Derek has registered his presence. Even if Isaac wasn't breathing loud enough to alert every hunter in a 500 yard radius, he'd have felt Isaac approaching - the web there, the bond, is humming a bit, and maybe it's stronger now because it's the only one left.
Maybe it's not really there at all, and that's the true illusion of Derek's life.
"Thought you were going to leave," Derek says, without looking up. He wants to kick at a broken bit of glass, but that would be juvenile. Kate had always said that he was juvenile in all the right ways; he thinks now that she meant all the horrible ones, that ones that let her in, let her twist his life and shred it with her fingernails.
"I was," comes the response, and Isaac still doesn't move from the top of the stairs.
There's a long stretch of nothing before Derek sighs, letting his head fall back against the grimy metal, and says, "Why didn't you?"
"I wanted to win," Isaac replies.
He takes the steps two-by-two, boots thudding loudly against the boards.
"Did we?" Derek asks, because he's really not sure. It doesn't look much like they won - he's got less now than when he started, and he's pretty sure that doesn't spell out much of a victory.
"Are we alive?" Isaac shoots back.
Derek chooses not to answer that one, either. Alive is a subjective state of being, and he learned that lesson a long time ago. "Why are you here, Isaac? I thought you ran off. I thought you didn't want any part in this. Didn't Erica and Boyd convince you that I'm a terrible leader?"
There's silence. Derek turns his head and he knows that scent, would know it anywhere. He hates that Isaac has carried it with him down here, to the hole Derek's chosen to die in, because now his senses are cloying with it, thick and heavy and just another reminder of how many times he failed.
"You smell like Scott," Derek laughs, mirthless. "Did you stay for him?"
Isaac doesn't answer him then, either. Derek sits without speaking until the boy leaves, taking the steps slower than he did coming down. It's better this way; Derek didn't really want to hear the answer.
--
He dreams of his father. It's not a good dream, but at least it's not a dream of fire and smoke and screams that ring in his head for days. His father is just looking at Derek with so much disappointment, like he's finally seeing all the unused potential - all the ways that Derek screwed everything up. He could make a list of the turns where he went wrong. He wishes he'd had a map; maybe then he wouldn't have taken so many wrong turns.
Derek wakes up to see Isaac standing at the foot of the steps again, a silhouette against the single light that's flickering at the top amidst the darkness. It's night. Late, probably, and Derek hasn't really moved much except to slide down further to the ground.
"No," Isaac says - his voice is too loud in the quiet.
"What?" Derek asks. He's having trouble not visualizing the ghost of his father lurking in the shadows, ashamed and disgusted.
"The answer to your question," Isaac elaborates. He steps closer, and Derek's night vision is already adjusted to the strange harshness between the lamp and the inky blackness. "I didn't come back for him."
Derek doesn't respond. After another second or two, long seconds of hammering heartbeats, Isaac gets down on the grimy floor on his hands and knees and crawls next to where Derek is slumped. He curls up against Derek's side, shoulders concaving over on themselves.
"Why?" Derek asks, and somehow the sound makes it around the lump in his throat.
"You made me," Isaac says. "I was broken, and you made me something else."
"I made you into something without a home."
Isaac's head moves, chin turning upwards. Against Derek's shoulder, the angle of his neck is harsh and long. "No. I didn't have a home before, but I have one now."
"This is an abandoned train station," Derek tries to laugh.
"I wasn't talking about this place."
Derek is sure that Isaac can feel the guilt and regret and gratitude that's pumping through his veins with every furious beat. He feels something - terror, maybe, if he had to put a name to it - when he loops an arm up, wrist bone scraping against the dingy concrete, and settles it around Isaac's shoulder.
And they stay there, for a long time, until all Derek can feel is the warmth shared between their forms and the gentle rise and fall of Isaac's chest.
Maybe, he's not as alone as he thought.